


John

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Implied Parental Abuse, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John raised his boys, so why did Dean have to clean up the mess? Why did Dean have to break the news to Sam? Why did Dean have to be the bad guy?</p><p>Dean, 12. Sam, 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John

**Author's Note:**

> Much of the dialogue in the second and third sections are taken from the episode 'A Very Supernatural Christmas'. No copyright intended.
> 
> Supernatural does not belong to me. This piece of fiction was written for entertainment purposes only, no profit is gained.

DELTON MIDDLE SCHOOL. It was Dean's worst nightmare come true as their father drove his Impala into the dusty school grounds. Dean turned in his seat to look at his eight year old brother, the same brother that would be dropped off at his own new school - but this school was on the other side of town.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam asked, sensing his brother's anxiety.

"Nothing," Dean replied in an off-hand way; he didn't want Sam to be nervous, but wasn't quite strong enough to offer something comforting.

"Dean's just too dependent on you."

Trust John is say something comforting, Dean thought bitterly. He didn't voice this thought; he never did.

"Don't be mean to Dean, Dad," Sam piped up. "It's his first day at a new school, too."

Dean smiled at Sam through the rear view mirror. The kid was always willing to stand up for Dean if the need arose, and it was nice. He wanted to keep Sam nice for as long as possible, he wasn't ever willing to drag Sam into the hunting shit.

John stopped outside the school. "Be back to pick you up at three, boy. Don't be late."

Dean only faintly heard John's words; they were already engrained into his memory. Don't be late; Don't go out at night; Don't go anywhere without a silver blade. What he'd do to be normal - to be normal for just one day. That would be worth something to hear from his father, but right now the only clichéd message from John that made it's way into Dean's head was "Watch Sam" and that was impossible when Sam's school was on the other side of town!

"Bye Dean, see you this afternoon." Sam had a bright smile on his face, and Dean had no idea how the kid could actually like school.

"Dad, don't you think it would be better if Sam stayed home today? Y'know..." He trailed off.

"No." His voice was flat, emotionless.

"But -"

John turned to face Dean, eyes hard and glaring. "If he doesn't go to school he will be coming with me. Would you rather that, Dean?"

It was an empty threat of course; John was no where near that stupid, and loved Sam too much to put him in danger. Still, the irrational part of Dean's brain refused to let Sam go due to the slight chance of what John could be capable of. John was just glad that Sam and Dean would be seperated for once; they were too close and this would be damn good for them.

"Bye Sam." Dean's flat and emotionless voice mirrored his father's.

Once he had gotten out of the car and slammed the door closed, he took one last look at his father who, for one reason or another, looked much happy with Dean out of the picture. Dean's eyes trailed to look at Sam's eternally happy face and grin. God, that kid was lucky; Dean wished they could trade places - if only for a day.

...

In a way, Dean received his wish three months later on December 24th, 1991 - Christmas Eve. John was away at yet another hunt, to him there were no holidays, no vacations, and no breaks. He had promised to be back Christmas Day, but empty promises were just another facet of John's personality, so the younger Winchesters didn't hold much hope at the prospect.

The boys knew that school was supposed to be a time with family. They'd heard it all at school, from the small amount of friends they had been able to accumulate, and from the fuzzy television screens located in two star motels throughout the country - houses were for 'normal' people, and Sam and Dean certainty didn't have their pictures next to this word in the dictionary.

Sam was sitting on the stained-with-who-knows-what chair reading a comic book, his interest in superheroes slowly but surely growing as he became older. Sam looked up just in time to see Dean walking through the door, carrying an armful of groceries.

"Thought you went out," Sam said as he gave his attention back to the comic book.

"Yeah, to get dinner." Dean tossed Sam a packet of beef jerky. "Don't forget your vegetables." A second package followed, this one containing Funyuns. They were cheap, they were edible, and, most importantly, Dean could buy them without leaving Sam alone for too long.

Sam placed his comic book on the ground before walking over to one of the beds, sitting, and having Dean follow suit on the bed parallel. He pulled out a can of soda and Sam watched as he opened it, taking a sip.

"I know you keep a gun under your pillow," Sam said quietly.

Dean stared at Sam, not allowing himself to show fear as he lifted his pillow and revealed the accusatory gun. He didn't immediately look back at Sam as he replaced the pillow, instead he took a few breaths and willed his voice calm.

He turned back to Sam. "No you don't, stay out of my stuff."

"And I know why we lay salt everywhere we go," Sam insisted.

"No, you don't. Shut up." Dean was now getting nervous, and having a hard time concealing it.

Sam ignored Dean, knowing that he was winning the battle of words. He pulled the cover from his bed and reached under the mattress; here, he found his father's journal.

Dean coughed nervously.

Sam turned back to his brother and held up the journal for a moment before throwing it onto the nightstand. Dean just stared at the brown leather before anger took over. Fuming, Dean stood over Sam. Sam wasn't bothered; he still knew he was winning.

"Where'd you get that?" Dean demanded, "That's Dad's. He's gonna kick your ass for reading that."

Sam continued to stare at his big brother. "Are monster's real?

"What? You're crazy." Stop asking, Sammy, stop it! You don't wanna know, you DON'T!

"Tell me."

Dean bit down on his lower lip and locked back at the journal. That damn journal; some days all he wanted to to do was burn the thing. It was the stem of their fucked up childhood.

Sam looked at his brother - he was going to answer the questions, Sam would make him. He had a right to know about his family, he did.

Dean sighed. "I swear, if you every tell Dad I told you any of this, I will end you."

"Promise," Sam said. He wanted to be delighted, but fear encompassed all other emotions.

Dean stared at Sam, willing the boy to shut up. He wanted Sam to stay in the dark, he wanted Sam to be a normal kid who played baseball, who read comics, who went to school. He didn't want his brother to know that monsters in the closet were real, or that Dracula could very well suck his blood in the night.

But the anger still boiled; What made Sammy so much better? What made John prepared to protect Sam, but not Dean? It wasn't fair! Why did Dean have to hold all the crap on his shoulders?

Dean placed his soda on the nightstand and sat back on the bed. He looked over at the journal, contemplating what to say, and then began.

"First thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He's a superhero."

"He is?" The excitement re-appeared in Sam's voice.

"Yeah." He took a breath, deciding how to word things. "Monsters are real." Another break, another contemplation of words. "Dad fights them. He's fighting them right now."

Dean continued, each his words - each of his words about their father's job - made Sam feel smaller, more unsafe, and even less trusting of both John and Dean.

"Is Santa real?" He asked tentively, wanting something - anything - good to come from this.

"No."

All of this...it should make been fake...it should be real! Had Sam's whole life just been built on one big lie?

Sam swallowed back tears. "I read in Dad's book they got Mom," Sam said quietly.

Dean felt a twinge of pain. "It's complicated, Sam."

Sam started to panic. "If they got Mom, they can get Dad. If they can get Dad, they can get us!"

Dean's heart pained now, for his mother and his brother, he ached inside. "It's-" Instead of words, Dean got up from the bed to sit with Sam. Sam calmed instantly. "It's not like that, okay? Dad's fine - we're fine - trust me."

Sam looked at Dean, but even his brother's comforting face, the sadness Sam felt deep down couldn't stop.

"You okay?" Dean was crying inside.

"Yeah -" Sam's voice caught.

Dean insisted that their father would be back for Christmas, but all of this went over Sam's head; he knew that everything his father once said was no longer true, he knew that Dean was now the only person he could trust - even if he was currently having a hard time doing even that.

"I just wanna go to sleep, okay?" He crawled into bed, turning away from Dean.

"Yeah, okay."

Sam put his head down, no longer being able to hold back the tears that silently fell onto his pillow.

"It'll all be better when you wake up," Dean vowed, "You'll see...Promise."

Dean didn't know whether the words were directed at Sam or himself. He continued to stare at his brother's bed, hearing soft sobs and feeling helpless to stop them. Damn you, John, he thought, Damn you for raising us in this!

...

"Sam, wake up."

Sam rolled over, opening his eyes to stare sleepily into his brother's near identical pair.

"Dad was here!" Look what he brought." Dean's voice was full of enthusiasm.

Dad didn't try to wake Sam up...? Dean had excuses, but Sam was still skeptical. He got up and followed Dean to the couch, opening one of the gifts.

"What is it?" Dean's voice was overly excited.

"Sapphire Barbie?" Sam stared at the box, confused.

Damn. He hid his thought with a scoff and smile. "Dad probably thinks you're a girl."

"Shut up." Sam sent Dean a withering look.

Sam didn't believe Dean's excuses anymore; he didn't believe his tale of Dad coming in the night and leaving the presents. In that morning, Sam had aged ten years, Dean had aged twenty.

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, staring straight into his eyes. Through the years of having only each other, Sam and Dean had gained a connection. Stronger than brothers, stronger than friends, stronger than anything else. Sam jumped off the couch and took the newspaper wrapped gift from the bench.

"Here - take this."

"No. No, that's for Dad," Dean protested.

"Dad lied." The admittance hurt. "I want you to have it."

While trying to sleep, Sam had thought; maybe his father had lied to them, but maybe Dean was the only person who hadn't. The presents were a sign that he was also the only person who cared enough to try and give Sam some goodness in his life.

Dean opened the gift and held the amulet in the palm of his hand. "Thank you, Sam. I-...I love it." He put it on.

Sam nodded, a sad smile on his face. Yeah, Dean was the one who deserved it the most.


End file.
